


Worst Game of Dominoes, EVER!!

by Damien_Reid



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Torchwood
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Episode Fix-it: s04e08 Silence in the Library, Fix-It, Multi, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pre-Episode:s02e13 Exit Wounds, Reichenbach Fix-It, Spoilers, Spoilers for Episode: s04e09 Forest of the Dead, Spoilers for Episode: s07e14 The Name of the Doctor, Time Babies, Time Travel, pre-221b Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damien_Reid/pseuds/Damien_Reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILERS! SPOILERS for EVERYTHING!!!</p><p>Major fix-it for everyone because I loved these characters and I need them to have happiness! Especially after DW:NotD and TW:CoE! And then they just threw S:RF on top!</p><p>Also, I quite fancy the idea of River and the Doctor having children, lovely and domestic.</p><p>Enjoy!<br/>Beware!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moriarty!! Grrr...

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Child of Our Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/208513) by [tree_and_leaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tree_and_leaf/pseuds/tree_and_leaf). 



> Stacks of timey-wimey, wibbley-wobbley stuff and abuse of sciencey bits which I've no actual understanding of.  
> I apologize.
> 
> (You lot saw Noel Clarke in ST:ID, right? I'll wager that that, is about as close to WhoLock as we're likely to get in canon.  
> "Mickey-Bloody-Smith!" I shouted that when I saw him, thank goodness I wasn't at the cinema.)

Cold. It’s so cold and the stones are damp beneath her back, sapping further warmth from her body— but, still her blood runs painfully hot under her skin and everything hurts. She’s been poisoned. And she’s trapped. And lucky her, the door is wood. The sonic doesn’t work on wood.

He’s 1200-years-old and he still hasn’t figured that out, her dear old dad: a mad man in a blue box who met a Scott with _such_ red hair. He took her away with her husband and their little girl grew up to kill the Doctor. Kill him… and then marry him. They raged across they stars together and had three kids and for just a second it seemed like the adventures would never end: the unending story. Then came the shadows in The Library.

Vashta Narada. **Run**. And boy, did they.

At least… he did. To a cloud above London, grey but never more than his mood. Two hearts and River Song broke both of them.

But he didn’t know them then. Her, her older brother and her older sister.

River Song took her children to Hartford, Connecticut in 1946 and put them on a train to New York.

“Go and meet your grandparents.” She’d said.

“Give them this letter and all my love.” Before she kissed their cheeks and sent them away. Earth at the end of the Holocaust.

Brianne, Jonathon, and the youngest: Amelia. Not their real names of course, but enough for a life in the 20th century.

That was a long time ago.

Or a long way in the future maybe.

Even through the haze of intoxication she could smell the universe around her (an inherited talent): Earth, Wales, 1674.

A castle.

A dungeon.

Moriarty, the Professor.

She so wanted to hate him, but more than that,

She pitied him.

The shouldn’t-be son of Madame Kovarian.

Big Bang two: sometimes time gets it wrong; fixes things that are better off broken. What do you call a miracle that makes everything worse?

You call it a psychopath (and not the fun kind either).

But how was she supposed to know any of that? She was only twenty-six and she’d grown up mostly on earth before the invention of mobiles and internet.

Sebastian Moran had seemed like an alright bloke.

Her elder brother was staying with Gran and Granda; her elder sister was teaching in Cambridge; and she herself had quietly borrowed a Chatauri warship (checked and rechecked for safety of course) for a bit of travelling.

She’d return it eventually.

She was touring Ikebukuro in 2026 when she’d met Sebastian. They were in a karaoke bar of all places and he was a bit English and very lost. She sympathized.

He was just telling her about his boyfriend and how afraid he was to introduce him to his mother. She’d hmm’d sadly and gone for a sip of her Kia Ora.

And woken up screaming through the bars over her window.

She’s poisoned and sweaty and dying. She burns from the inside out, but she can’t regenerate

—not yet.

 It would be her first time and she doesn’t know how long it might take to come back around afterwards. There’s no telling what Moriarty might do to her unconscious or what he might’ve already done. She suspects he may have taken memories from her but, she just doesn’t _know_.

Her hearts are pounding, her head is throbbing, and she’s starting to hallucinate. No really, she swears she can hear her mum’s voice out in the corridor calling for her.

And she can just see the top of River’s curls through the view-slot in the door.

And now there’s a square shaped hole in the wood.

“Mum?” She croaked out. River’s laugh was just the slightest bit strained but she was healthy looking and _alive_. Hair a wild mess, olive green dress with lots of zippers, boots, and standard black jodhpurs: River Song.

“Hello, Little One.” River smiled, helping her youngest daughter to her feet and strapping her with a rift manipulator.

“You died.” She noted, slouching into her mother’s embrace.

“Three times. Your father still holds the record there, I’m afraid, although your Granddad’s half caught him up.” River laughed, brushing her Little One’s curls from her face.

“How are you here?” She wheezed, not-quite coughing.

“Well, I would say ‘spoilers’, but there are a few bits and bobs that need sussing and _you_ —” she clutched her mother’s dress a bit tighter as River pushed her back to look at her, framing her face with cool fingers.

“Are just the time traveller for the job. No time to chat though, so I’ll have to give you the download version.” She closed her eyes against the sudden flood of information (timey-wimey nonsense that she couldn’t even begin to process in her inebriated state) burrowing into the back of her skull.

“There. Now, off you go. Try not to kill Jack— and don’t bother asking how many times he’s died already, even I couldn’t keep count. Good luck.” And then she’s being wrenched through a rift in time and space and the solid scratch of tarmac is hurtling towards her face and she can’t even yelp.


	2. Hello, Jack.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's meet the Torchwood team!

It’s fuck-o-clock in the morning and every alarm in the Torchwood hub is screeching at epic volumes.

“Tosh! Can’t you shut it off?” Gwen whinges, fingers in her ears.

“I’m trying, but it won’t stop. It’s— oh! There we are, then.” Tosh grins as the wall of aural over-stimulation abruptly dies.

“What was it?” Jack asks, nicking a sip of Ianto’s coffee (too much sugar, not his style, but bearable).

“Massive energy spike near the docks, sending the coordinates to your phone now, Sir. Definitely advanced technology, but it doesn’t look alien.”

“Right. Gwen, Ianto, fancy an early morning stroll?” Gwen rolls her eyes but makes a grab for the car keys, besides.

“Do I really need to be here for this? I could be at home having a wank.” Owen drawls, failing to notice the blush painting Tosh’s cheeks.

“Yup. I have a feeling we might need you.” Jack replies cheerily, already half-through the door.

“Awesome,” Owen grouses, slinking off in search of liquid energy.

 

 

The first thing Jack sees is the nearly familiar gold-light of regeneration energy.

His heart starts pounding and he practically flies out of the Hummer.

“Doctor?” He calls, and then he looks— really looks— and there’s no long coat or knackered converse, just a girl with a mess of too-black hair and dirt smudged across her face. She’s very young and shaking just a bit from the cold. Jack drapes his coat over her and lifts her up bridal-style.

“Is that the Doctor?” Gwen queries, looking sceptical.

“Not sure. It could be, but let’s just get her back to Owen and make sure she’s alright before we worry about any of that.” He answers, carrying her to the car and sliding in beside her in the back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I <3 Owen Harper, M. D.


	3. Now it's a Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The show must go on, no time to dawdle.

She’s gasping and it’s really all she can do as she lay in the street dying, everything bursting and tingling and tearing and a whole mess of other ‘ings’ as she succumbs to regeneration.

Funny they’d call it healing when really it’s having all her pieces ripped away and replaced with someone else and— _oh_. She can tell already, she is **going** to have an attitude. And she was definitely wrong before: pity? Mercy? No.

She HATES Moriarty. The Professor— hah! Pretentious much? And wow, she does not remember those sorts of things clicking together in her head like that before and—

Gasp! Her fingers are sort of itching for a weapon of some kind. A gun? Oh, yes, please! A knife? Even better.

Actually— how about a torch? A heavy one, like a Mag-Lite! Perfect for a well placed thump to the back of the head because she is going to **KILL** Moriarty when she gets her hands on him and maybe, just maybe, the Pond women are starting to rub off on her.

Oh, but what would Father say? And really, she’s not visited in ages. And didn’t her mother tell her a story once? One of Dad’s old companions... Ace! That was her! Beat a Dalek with a baseball bat and always carried explosives.

Gosh! Her first ever role model!

But perhaps a nap first? Regeneration could really take it out of a girl.

 

* * *

 

 

She woke with her head still spinning, but at least she could see straight.

“Jack?” And wasn’t that a sight to wake up to. She tried to sit up and there was a disappointing lack of growth, height wise. New hair though: ink black with just the slightest wave and curl. About as far from strawberry-blonde corkscrews as she could get.

“Wow. Sorry, kind of a different person. Give us a mo.” She said, swaying a bit. Her voice hadn’t changed much, nearly the same pitch, if a slightly dryer tone.

“Doctor?” The captain asked, bewildered and possibly hopeful. The other her wouldn’t have noticed the gun at his waist, only the concern in his eyes.

“No. Daughter, actually. Shall I be offended or flattered? She would’ve been flattered. Or she’d’ve just laughed. Should I laugh?” She rabbitted a bit and for once Jack was speechless.

“Right, again sorry. Regeneration, tricky. Call me... Ames: short for Amelia.” She continued, getting her feet on the ground.

“Can I borrow your vortex manipulator? I promise to bring it back, have to really. I still need your help.” She requested, head tilting slightly, like it would have before.

“Daughter? I thought the Doctor was... asexual! Or at the very least celibate...” That was not the reply she was expecting, and frankly, a bit of an over-share.

“Thanks, that’s not at all something I want to talk or think about, but if you must know,” she paused to roll her eyes long-sufferingly.

“His wife— my mother— is a Pond woman and Pond women are nothing if not irrefutable. If they want something you can be sure they’ll have it and honestly, Dad’s the only man for Mum, what with being the last full Timelord and the man she was made to murder and all.” There were so many questions in there, Jack didn’t know where to start. Ianto cut in first, starting with the simplest.

“A Pond Woman?”

“Surname not species. Amelia Pond, Melody Pond, and I suppose my sister and I could be considered Ponds as well. Though, Sis would say she’s a Williams first.” When they didn’t speak she started up again, answering a question no one asked.

“Amelia, my gran; Melody, my mum— goes by River Song: a professor, whom I believe you’ve met, Jack.”

“The Doctor married Professor River Song? Now, that, I could almost believe.” Jack laughed, remembering his first encounter.

“Good. Because she needs your help. She died and couldn’t regenerate but we can save her, at a price, which we’ll talk about later. First things first, your vortex manipulator.” She asked, holding a hand out.

“It’s broken.” Jack answered, even as he pulled it from his wrist.

“No matter.” She replied, pulling out River’s sonic (modified a bit from its time in the Library).

Three short chirps, a zap, and she was gone.

A puff of smoke a millisecond later had her right back. With company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing a regeneration... was oddly natural for me :)


	4. Where No Man Has Gone Before...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...aside from the Doctor and all his friends.
> 
> Look it's Kirk!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too Fucked Up to Call - 2AM CLUB
> 
> Great song...

They were three years into their five year mission and Kirk still hadn’t gotten the hang of diplomacy in the company of douchey hostiles.

Shots were flying, their comms were down, Spock was bleeding out green in the yellow grass, and there was no magic wand for Kirk to wave that would fix this (also, his shoes were a size too small and damn uncomfortable). He knelt down by his first officer.

“Spock? Spock, hey, listen to me. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna get us out of this. No such thing as a no-win scenario, remember?” Spock politely refrained from telling Jim that ‘okay’ had multiple definitions and that he should be more precise in his choice of vernacular, instead he said:

“Yes, Captain. I remember.” And even though Kirk was trying to be reassuring he _really_ was **not** feeling it right now. He stood to fire only to see a bullet (no joke! An actual .22 cal) heading straight for him. He was done for, him and Spock were gonna die together on an alien planet in deep space and Bones was so gonna kill him for it! And—

Zap! There she was, taking the hit for him. She curled in on herself and all the combat just stopped.

The seconds ticked by and her shoulders began to shake. Kirk took a step forward and promptly froze.

Blinding gold light burst from her chest and all the hostiles went down, even Kirk got knocked on his ass.

She whirled on him.

“James Tiberius Kirk, captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Spock, First Officer and CSO of the same ship. I’m here because I need your help, but first...” And with that she crossed in front of Kirk and dropped to her knees and pushed her hands to Spock’s chest. The wound glowed with the same golden light for just a tick and when she pulled away it was all healed, even the green stain and the tear in Spock’s shirt were fixed.

“Whew, that’s exhausting. Don’t suppose you’ve got any snacks? A packet of crisps?” Kirk just shook his head.

“How is it that you were able to heal my wound and repair the damage to my uniform?” Spock inquired seriously.

“Complicated, but let’s just say ‘spoilers’ and you’ve got an ancestor way back that just saved your arse. Also, thank Vulcan for putting your heart in your stomach and your spleen in your chest, otherwise that whole saving you bit would have been bloody impossible.”

“Fascinating.”

“Bang on. Now down to business, a favour for a favour, yeah? Mind, it’s not really a request since you’ve already agreed to it, but I’m meant to inform you of some crucial bits and make a debate of it. So here goes: you can save five people— people who will go on to save countless other people and one of which who is Spock— but it’s going to cost you something. It already has cost you something. You’ve dealt with time travel once before and so you know it’s massively, _stupidly_ complicated and here’s the thing— I could not be here if you hadn’t already said yes once, but time can be rewritten. You could say no now and things would just change as though they’d always been that way. I would die, my mother would die, Sherlock bloody Holmes would **die** , and Spock— you may not even be _born_. So, help?” Kirk didn’t even hesitate.

“I’m in.” He said, grinning.

“Captain? It would not be advisable to—”

“Spock, she just asked us to save her life.” _Her mother’s life._

 “She just saved _our_ lives. If we don’t help her there’s a chance you won’t be _born_. How can I say no? And besides, I like her.” Kirk finished, grinning.

“Thank you. Now let’s not stick around to see if they wake up. Oh, and...” She pulled out hypo-sized bit of tech.

“You should comm your ship so that they don’t send anyone else down here. I’ll take you directly to the bridge when we’re done.” She said, running the device over Kirk’s communicator.

“Kirk to Enterprise. Come in, Enterprise.”

“Keptin!” Chirped Chekov grainily.

“Hey, Chekov. Tell Bones: me and Spock are alright and we caught a ride out. Don’t send anyone else down here, it’s bad. We might take a little while getting back though, so just sit tight and keep the shields up. Got that?”

“Aye, Keptin!” The young ensign affirmed.

“Great. Kirk, out.” Jim said, cutting the connection.

“Now, in the immortal words of some-old-guy-from-earth: let’s blow this joint.” He grinned. Spock didn’t have time to protest before they were flung through the vortex in a puff of smoke.


End file.
